


Our Happiest Days Will Be Spent...

by peblezQ



Series: Hamilton Week - Lams Birthday Bash [4]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Based on Mush Roomie's Animatics, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Denial, Established Relationship, Five Stages of Grief, Gay John Laurens, Historical Stitches, Hurt No Comfort, Insanity, John Laurens wears a Turtleneck Sweater, Lams - Freeform, Lams Birthday Bash, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Origin Story, Prompt Fic, References to Depression, Stitches, Supply Runs, Violence, dark!john, injured/patch up, john laurens is not okay, stitches au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peblezQ/pseuds/peblezQ
Summary: Set in a Modern-Day Zombie Apocalypse AU. Laurens and Hamilton get ambushed by zombies during a simple supply run. It was only meant to be a quick in-and-out, but life is not fair...Prompt #4 - Injured/Patch Up
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: Hamilton Week - Lams Birthday Bash [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086494
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28
Collections: Lams Birthday Bash





	Our Happiest Days Will Be Spent...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clear_as_starlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clear_as_starlight/gifts), [Blue_Clover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Clover/gifts), [fiaistired](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiaistired/gifts).



> Howdy folks! We are nearing the end of the "Lams Birthday Bash - Hamilton Week" challenge! Thank you to everyone who has been reading my fics and indulging my insanity. I can genuinely say that I have posted a fic every single day on AO3 in 2021 so far.
> 
> Physical descriptions are left vague for the reader's preferences - except for the fact that John is taller than Alex. 
> 
> I blame the amrev server for this one. Y'all know who you are… 👀
> 
> No betas, we die like men!

Alexander presses his back against the wall, leaning over to see if the coast is clear. He furrows his brows at the decrepit neighbourhood, his eyes scanning the area with great care. He turns over to face John who is pressed up against the wall beside him, lifting a curious brow. 

Alexander nods once and they make a break for it, hurrying towards their target. They enter the corner store with great care and carefully scope out the area before sighing with relief. They are safe for now. 

"I'll focus on finding the medicine. You collect any food you can fit in the bag," John instructs after lowering his gun. 

"Aye aye, captain," Alex replies with a mock salute. He grins and John fondly rolls his eyes as he tucks the gun in the back of his jeans. John rolls up the sleeves of his black turtleneck sweater and begins searching. 

They are swift and efficient, collecting whatever they need that has not already been expired. John breathes out a sigh of relief when he notices the medicine he was looking for. He wiggles the pill bottle triumphantly towards Alex as he walks over, readjusting his strap. 

"Hey, nice. You found it!" Alex exclaims in a soft voice. 

John suavely tosses it in his bag and zips it up, throwing it over his shoulder with a smirk. "Yeah, this was probably our best run, yet. Washington will be thrilled!" Alex's smile melts as he stares at John, and the other man lifts up a brow in question, chuckling lowly to himself. "What?" 

"Nothing. I just like looking at you being all excited," Alex replies dreamily. "Makes me happy to see you in such good spirits." 

John scoffs, looking away and blushing. "I highly doubt I look decent. I'm a greaseball. I smell terrible and my face feels disgusting with, like, three weeks worth of sweat sitting on my skin, and—mmmph!?" John's eyes widen before closing carefully, easing into the sudden kiss from Alex. He falls off balance and hits the shelf behind him, chuckling lightly into the kiss. 

Alex pulls back, his eyes hooded with adoration. "You're _my_ greaseball, Laurens." 

"Shut up," John replies indignantly, his feigned pout curling into a dopey grin. "Let's go back to camp." 

Alex smirks playfully and nudges John. "Yeah, then we can continue this in our tent," he quips with waggling eyebrows. 

John's face darkens into a deep shade of crimson. "You're the worst, you know that?" 

Alex holds his hands and sways them, tugging lightly to force John to bump his head against his own. "Mhmm. Sue me for giving my _boyfriend_ some love and affection during these trying times." 

John smirks, tucking a strand of hair away from Alex's face. "God, I love the sound of that." 

"Sound of what?" Alex tilts his head. 

John leans down, closing the small gap between their faces to capture Hamilton's lips in a slow, sensual kiss before pulling away. "The sound of you calling me yours." 

Now it’s Alex's turn to blush. "Shit, I don't wanna move. I like being out here, alone with you..." 

John's eyes darken. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we can make it to our tent." He leans closer, pressing his lips against Alex's ear. "I wanna hear you call me yours all night long." 

"Fuck," Alex breathes out as John pulls away languidly. "Say shit like that to me, Laurens, and I can't think straight." 

"Ha, isn't that the point?" John responds with a knowing wink. "I would hope you aren't straight if you're dating me, Hamilton." Alex playfully smacks his arm and John releases a deep, husky laugh. "Alright, alright. Seriously, let's head back." 

Alex nearly skips beside John as they pull out their weapons and approach the front doors. They hesitate to look out the glass — not a soul, alive or dead, is seen. Alex nods firmly to John and he opens the door for the both of them to flee the abandoned corner store. 

Later on, long after today's events have occurred, John Laurens would point out every stupid thing they did that could have lead to their outcome. He should have made sure Alex could comfortably carry his bag of soup cans. He shouldn't have distracted Alex the way he did. John should have used his machete and not his handgun. _He could have...he should have…what if?_

The two of them begin running down the street when they mistakenly turn into an alleyway full of Dead Roamers. John does not pay notice to how Alex is running considerably slower than him since his bag is weighing him down like an anchor. 

John's blood runs cold at the sound of the pavement scrapping and the sound of Alex screaming and thudding painfully on the ground. Laurens turns around and his eyes widen at the sight of Alex, a few feet behind him, kicking at a Roamer on top of him and scrambling to reach his machete in time to slice it through its head. 

John pulls his handgun out swiftly and shoots the other nearest one to aid Alex as he struggles to shove the dead weight off of himself and get to his feet. John's heart palpitates in his tight chest, but he remains focused on shooting the Roamers gaining up on Alex; he limps pitifully towards John with wide, terrified eyes. 

"Jack, look out!" Laurens swiftly turns around, shooting the Roamer limping behind him between its glassy grey eyes. He stares in trepidation at the small crowd of Roamers coming through the alleyway beside him. _No, no!_ Every Roamer within their vicinity has been attracted to his gunfire and now they're surrounded. 

John pulls out his machete and aids Alex in slicing some dead brains before looping his arm around Alex to support his limp. 

"I think I sprained my fucking ankle!" Alex groans as he hobbles along beside John, being half-dragged by the taller southerner holding onto him for dear life. They swing at nearby Roamers as they stumble their way into a ramshackle clothing store, barricading the doors hastily as the Roamers bang them aggressively. 

"Those fuckers are rotting and slow. They won't get through that," Alex states breathlessly, bending over to gasp desperately for air. 

John continues to take precautions, barricading the door with every nearby clothing rack until some of the Roamers give up and linger by the windows, the number of aggressive ones slowly dwindling as they clearly grow tired of it. John finally allows himself a chance to breathe a sigh of relief before turning to look at Alex. 

He stares silently at Alex's bloody ankle. 

"I have a first aid kit in the bag," John says monotonously, moving onto his knees and digging through the bag with owlish eyes. 

Alex remains silent as he leans on the small display of jeans, watching the Roamers outside slowly lose interest in them. "John, what if one of those things had—" 

"You're fine. Just scratched up," John cuts him off, pointedly keeping his eyes on the first aid kit as he pulls the required tools out of it. Alex nods numbly, refusing to look down as John begins cutting his jeans from the ankle up to his mid-shin to gain access to the wound. 

"Guess I'll need new pants," Alex jokes with a hollow voice as John takes in a sharp intake of breath. "We were really lucky to end up in a clothing store," Alex adds in a meek voice, his eyes beginning to water as he looks down at John, smiling weakly. 

"You'll be fine," John says carefully, his eyes unmoving from the wound on Alex's ankle. "I can stitch you up. Disinfect it," John adds, sounding near-manic as he begins working on Alex's ankle. He meticulously begins tending to the open wound and Alex lets him with neutralized features. 

"You are so beautiful like this," Alex whispers as John swabs disinfectant on the wound. "I remember back in our apartment, watching you practice stitching with that weird-ass silicone model from your class and thinking — wow, he's gonna be an incredible doctor someday…" Alex rambles nostalgically, staring out the window into the dead eyes of the Roamers still loitering in front of the store. "You were always so particular with your work — your hands were steady as hell. And you've always been so kind to anyone who spoke to you and God, I loved you for so long, Jack… Long before I finally confessed after all this shit went down." Alex looks down to see tears streaming down John's cheeks as he continues to tend to his wound, silent and utterly shattered. Alex smiles with great affection, his tears beginning to spill at some point during his speech. "They need you and your brilliance and your kindness back at camp." 

"We will go back together," John says roughly, his voice defeated even though he seems determined. 

"John, we know it's only a matter of time. Let me at least help you get out while you still can—" 

"No!" John screams, slamming his fist against the white platform Alex is sitting on. "I said you're coming back with me!" 

Alex shakes his head slowly, sniffling and wiping his face with his sleeve. "Please, I can't have you be in denial. You have to accept this for what it is, John." Alex pauses as John glares at his ankle that he had efficiently cleaned to show the wound more clearly now. "You know what a bite does to someone. Don't deny that." 

John sluggishly looks up into Alex's eyes, a tear streaming down his entire face in one smooth motion. "I can't lose you," John whispers, his voice wobbling. His reserve is slowly beginning to shatter before Alex's eyes. 

"Listen, here. They need you back at camp," Alex says carefully. "Right now _Peggy_ needs you. She needs you, Doctor Laurens, and that medicine in your bag." 

"I'm not a doctor," John mumbles meekly. 

"You were gonna graduate from Harvard Med before this shit went down, so yes you fucking are," Alex retaliates with a stern frown. "You're gonna take the supplies and you're gonna make a break for it towards camp. I will distract the Roamers so you can make it—" 

"Enough!" John shouts, shaking his head frantically. "I am _not_ leaving you, Alexander!" 

"Yes, you are!" Alex snaps, grabbing John's face and forcing him to look up at him. "I can already feel it. It's flowing through my system. My body will burn up and I'll die of a fever and then come back and eat your fucking brain!" 

John pulls himself away, shaking his head as he staggers to his feet. "Alex, stop it!" 

"John, please listen to reason. If you do not go through with this plan you will die!" Alex roars with hot tears spilling from his eyes. He grips the edge of the white display with white-knuckled fists. 

"Then I guess I'll die," John replies in a chillingly calm tone. "I can't live without you…" 

Alex shakes his head. "No, fuck right off. You need to get back to camp and save Peggy, you asshole!" Alex barks furiously. 

"McHenry is at camp, he can help her," John replies coldly. 

"McHenry can't do shit without the fucking antibiotics in your bag!" Alex seethes in rage. "John, you need to stop fucking around and be a survivor. You made it this far — you can't just give up now!" 

"I _can_ and I _will,"_ John retaliates with a deep frown. "I refuse to leave you." 

Alex yells in frustration and punches the flimsy white display. "I hate you so much right now. You're being so damn selfish it's actually sickening." 

John kneels in front of Alex, holding his face with care. "I love you so much, Alex. I can't just...How the hell do I go on? What do I do?" 

Alex narrows his eyes but visibly melts under John's hold. "You go be a doctor. You find a cure and save the world." Alex lifts his hand up and laces his fingers with John's against his cheek, pulling it down to place a gentle kiss on John's hand. "And keep them safe. You're the protector of our family, John. They _need_ you back home." 

John shivers and breaks down, collapsing onto Alex and burying his face in his chest, sobbing openly as reality finally shatters his reserve. Alex resists his urge to cry, focusing his energy on John and consoling him with a watery grin. 

"If you go back then it will not have been for nothing. Tell Peggy I love her and that I wanted to do this for her," Alex whispers gently. "Tell them all that I love them so much." Alex's voice hiccups. "And always remember that this was never your fault, John. I was the dumbass who packed too many cans in my fucking bag and didn't ask to switch bags with you." 

John looks into Alex's eyes with wide, uncertain ones. Alex holds John's face and smiles like a fool. "I love you, John. Let me save you so I can rest in peace." 

John attempts to shake his head, but Alex holds him steady, leaning in to press a quick, passionate kiss to John's cheek. "Now pack up the supplies and let's get you the fuck out of this store." 

John nods automatically, his heart sinking as he transfers as many food supplies into his bag, tucks the first aid kit away, zips up the bag, and slings it over his shoulder. They pick up their machetes, he helps Alex up, and they stagger towards the rear of the store. They pause behind the door and John looks down uncertainly at Alex who beams up at him like nothing is wrong. 

"You run towards camp — it's only half a mile from here. I'll distract the Roamers." John nods, feeling his stomach flip at Alex's stern commander voice. "John, no matter what you may hear...don't look back. Just keep running." 

John nods weakly, his eyes leaking another tear. Alex wipes John’s face, his smile calm and reserved. He seems content and at peace as he examines John. John scans Alex as well, hoping to brand Alex’s image into his memory. Alex nervously brushes lint off of John's shoulders as a guise to cup his hands around John's jaw; he smiles affectionately. "I love you so much, Jack." 

John leans in, pressing his lips against the crown of Alexander's forehead, holding him close in a tight embrace. "I love you, more," John whispers hoarsely, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing the new tears threatening to spill. 

They reluctantly pull back and Alex smiles conspiringly. "Race you to our tent?" 

John smiles, grateful for Alex's ploy to encourage him to return home. He indulges in the fantasy. "Last one there has to clean the other's gun," John replies with a forced grin. 

Alex winks at him and leans over to open the door carefully. He looks through the alleyway before silently waving to John and limping outside. John helps him through the alley and they press up against the wall of the building, facing the main road. Alex peeks out and then pulls back. "They're all huddled by the front of the clothing store. You have a clear path." 

John hates how fucking easy this is; _it’s unfair._ He nods in understanding, not wanting to release Alex's bicep. For a moment, he can see them, a year prior and lazing on the couch in their apartment, watching some unimportant movie. John gazes down at Alex who watches the movie intently, ungracefully shoving popcorn into his mouth. He feels nothing but adoration for his best friend and roommate of five years. He stares at his lips, desiring nothing more than to capture them with his own and to whisper sweet nonsense into Alex's skin. But he does not. John turns his head back to the screen with a tense jaw, wishing he could just confess his damn feelings already, but fears the loss of his closest friend from rejection. 

Little did he know, Alex was thinking the very same thing that day. 

John runs down the street, refusing to look back as he hears Alex holler and shout for the dead crowd's attention. "Come and get me you fuckers! Lunchtime!" 

Alex's voice begins to fade, his hollering and laughter echoing down the street as he leads them in the opposite direction. John keeps his eyes on the road ahead of him as Alex's playful hollering changes into screams of pain, the groaning of the Roamers drowning out his agony. 

John keeps running, tears pouring from his eyes like a leaking faucet as he sprints like he never has before. He feels not only weighted by the bag, but also by the sharp pain in his heart as Alex is ripped away from him. 

John keeps running until he makes it to the woods, no longer hearing Alex's screams. His legs burn as he sprints through the trees, gasping desperately for air as his tears mangle and deform into broken sobs. He coughs wetly, slamming himself against a tree to catch his breath. He squeezes his eyes shut, thinking about Alex on the couch, Alex in class, Alex at the bar and laughing beside him. He thinks about all the times Alex saved his life and how he taught Alex how to stitch an open wound when John was hurt during an ambush. 

He thinks about Alex giving up his food for Peggy, the young thirteen-year-old who groaned in pain from hunger all alone in an alleyway. He remembers how they brought her back with them to camp, unaware that she was Eliza and Angelica's missing sister until the trio reunited with cries of joy. Alex’s smile that day was heartwarming. 

John rolls so the tree is against his back and he slides down, hugging his legs close to his chest and screaming in agony as it finally settles into his brain that his heart has been permanently torn from him today. He grits his teeth, sniffling and wiping his eyes. 

_No, not permanent... Not forever. He will be a doctor, just as Alex said. He will find a cure._ His jaw ticks as he sluggishly stands up, pushing all of his heavy weight against the tree. His legs feel like gelatin and his chest feels like he swallowed pins and needles. But he pushes onwards, towards the camp, and closer to his family waiting for his return. 

He smiles giddily to himself, thinking about how Alex will have to clean his gun once he cures him of his disease — after he _finally_ returns home. 

He can patch Alex up; he has to. He's the best damn doctor there is. 

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, John is officially off his rocker. This is a Dark!John origin story to a longer story I may or may not write eventually. 
> 
> God, I am so sorry.
> 
> If anyone wants to see the animatic that gave me inspiration for this Zombie AU, here it is:  
> https://youtu.be/e6e8DLPOmyw


End file.
